This hotel I'm staying at is great. The nicest one thus far. Probably because it's not the economy version, but the real live thing. I'm not a huge fan of the neighborhood it's in (Read into this what you will), but it has a legitimate restaurant, bar and more than 3 floors. In fact, seeing as that I'm a Platinum Member of this specific chain I get some perks. At this hotel I get a free drink at the bar, peanuts, water and a King sized suite on the Ninth Floor. Or as in the words of the concierge, "The Ambassador Level." God bless hotel people and their fancy fucking words. I'm not actually sure what separates a suite on the 'Ambassador Level' versus one on the 1st floor other than nine flights of stairs I have to run down in case someone pulls the fire alarm. But I digress. This place also has a full fledged gym allowing me to get in my 30 minutes of daily cardio. This gym in particular has glass windows that peer out onto the pool area. This is prime people watching real estate, boys and girls. As I was hitting the treadmill, there was a man, mid 50's I'd say, swimming by himself. Correction: swimming and talking to himself. I first thought that I couldn't help but wonder what exactly he was saying, but I'm assuming he was repeating a bird call that was designed for small children. And while I'm not a parent, I do possess some protective qualities and a level of common sense that picks out weirdos and degenerates upon sight. After repeating what appeared to be the entire Old Testament, this guys gets out of the pool and proceeds to dry himself for no less than 15 minutes. How long does it take one to dry themselves off? At this point I'm thinking to myself, "This guy is definitely cruising and he's probably cruising for me. Maybe I should have worn a baggier shirt. Hell--Maybe I should have worn a burlap sack." Listen, I don't know what this guys deal was, but it was definitely strange. Where's Chris Hansen when you need him?
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